


Once a soldier...

by Folie_lex



Category: Queen of the South, Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:26:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folie_lex/pseuds/Folie_lex
Summary: Lil' T has some car trouble and James is sent to pick her up.





	Once a soldier...

**Author's Note:**

> #1 - This is completely un-beta’d so all mistakes (humongous and/or minor) just credit them to that.
> 
> #2 - Queen of the South is AMAZEBALLS! WATCH IT!
> 
> #3 - I really enjoyed the dynamic between James and Lil' Traviesa in 3.05, and I really wanted to examine it a bit more. Plus I still think the show can do better with exploiting and exploring James' army background. And since I figured out a way to combine the two... yeah... fic... 
> 
> Disclaimer: I obviously DO NOT own anything... I'm just a fan expressing some love.

She has a good ninety more minutes on the road until she's even close to Phoenix, let alone the winery, that's on the other side of town, when the light on the dash goes on, indicating the batery is about to die on her. The truck starting to slug along and her headlights barely illuminating the pitch dark road ahead, just prove the point further.  
She curses to herself as she pulls over to the first parking lot that crosses her path. It's a plaza that accomodates a dive bar, a gas station and a 7Eleven in the middle of nowhere Arizona.

The van barely makes it to a proper parking spot before it dies completely.

"Shit!' she says again and she pulls out her phone.  
Two bars and 8% batery.  
"Double, triple _shit_!"

She hits the first name on her caller list. Teresa picks up on the second ring.  
"Hey."  
"Yo, T."  
"You're back already? That was fast."  
"Why I'm calling. The truck went dark on me. And I don' think callin' tripleA 's an option."  
"Where are you?"  
"No idea. You gotta track the truck or my phone. And that battery's dyin' too, so..."  
"I'll send someone to come get you right now. Hang tight."  
"Nowhere I can go, boss."

Teresa hangs up. And the battery on her phone is now on 6%.  
She she wrinkles her nose in annoyance. 

Time passes at a snail's pace, not being able to listen to any music neither on the car's radio or on her phone. After what feels like an eternity, when really it's barely been 10 minutes, she jumps ouf of the truck and starts pacing around.  
A couple of guys from the bar are leaning on the patio railing smoking and looking her way. She pretends to not notice.  
Maybe another 10 excrusiating minutes pass, like this: she circles her vehincle, leans on it, kicks the tires, and the guys from the bar stare at her while she does this.

Eventually she just locks the van, walks over to the 7Eleven and buys herself a couple of candybars, a soda, and a magazine to leaf through and pass the time. When she gets back to the van the group of men on the patio feels significantly larger.  
It's enough for her to decide and sit in the cabin of the truck now.  
After she climbs in she locks the door behind her, throws all the stuff from the convenience store on the passanger side seat and grabs her gun from the glove compartment.  
She locks, loads, and rests her piece by her thigh, as she picks up the magazine and a Mars bar from the seat beside her. 

It's uncomfortable to find a good angle where she can both keep an eye on the bar, and get some of the light from the closest parking lot lamp, onto the magazine.  
She's squirming for the hundredth time when she sees a black SUV drive in the lot. She regognizes the plates and releases a sigh she didn't even know she was holding in.  
She looks at her phone. 3% battery and way less than an hour since she called Teresa. It's been a great change of pace to have reliable people on your six since she joined this crew.

The SUV parks right next to her. She expects aligator cowboy boots, fancy flannel tucked in under a ridiculous belt buckle and a mustache as big as her arm to exit from the driver's side. Nicely fitted jeans and a lean leather jacket is what she's greeted with instead.  
Seeing James come to her rescue is enough for the relieved sigh to turn into a grunt.

"Where's Pote?" she asks him anyway, as she rolls down the window making her tone derisive enough to imply he's not who she was expecting or wanted.  
"He couldn't leave the stew unattended for _your sake_ , and I was already on the road."  
She's not the biggest fan of the way he says 'your sake' and she's about to let him know it, as she jumps out of the truck securing her piece at her waistband, but he doesn't give her the time. "What's wrong?" he asks not skipping a beat as he nods towards the van.  
She lets it slide, 'cause fine: if you can't take it, don't diss it... and anyway... he did show up...  
"Going by the dash light: battery." 

He shakes his head as he pops his trunk to get the booster cables.  
"I've told you: always have Tonto or Charger check the car out before you leave the lot."  
"I do!"  
She does. Teresa has told her as much also. So she always has one of the guys do a once over before she hits the road.  
"And I've told you, don't leave the lights on for the fun of it either."  
"I don't!"  
Actually she totally does that too, because he was the only one who said that, and well, when it comes to James she can be pretty damn petty. Plus using the van's lights can be very convenient sometimes.  
He gives her a look that tells her he knows she's full of it. Regardless, he proceeds to pop both of their cars' hoods to give the van some juice.

He's done connecting the cables when they hear a clamour of heavy footsteps behind them.  
"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" 

A group of eight guys, in their mid to late 20s, with similar short military haircuts and athletic looking enough like they can bench 200 pounds with their pinky, are coming towards them with purpose. It's the gang from the patio and they're looking for a fight it seems. She's happy to accommodate.  
"Nothing that's none of your business, _pendejo_ ," she says taking a couple of steps towards them and reaching behind her back and under her flannel for her gun. James' fingers wrap around her wrist before she even touches steel, and pulls her behind him. He plants his feet and squares his shoulders, rising to his full height, making sure his body is fully covering her.  
"Not looking for any trouble here, gentlemen," he says, his voice, level, calm and collected; as always.  
She can't tell if it's his tone or his stance that has the guys practically coming to an instant halt, a few good feet further away than where they intended to stop.  
" _They_ have! Fuckin' all night they have, looking this way," she rises up to her toes to spout over James' shoulder. She shifts her weight forward and it should throw him off balance, but he hardly sways from his spot.  
"You wanna tell your little _'chica'_ to stop bitching," the guy who spoke before and seems to be the rignleader of the pack says.  
"Probably his _'cousin'_ Luke... they're all cousins, right?" a guy to Luke's right comments, and they all chuckle a good bit.  


"Is there a problem here?"  
Suddenly the guys stand straight in attention.  
She crams her head over James' other shoulder to see two other men standing just by the other side of her truck. They seem just as soldiery - more so in some ways - older than this group in front of them - mid 40s, older - both of them very white - Hitler propaganda poster boys kind of gringos. She now assumes they're officially screwed, and makes another attempt to reach for her gun. James wraps his arm behind him and stops her again. She looks up at him and notices he's examining the new arrivals to this party with peculiar interest.

"No, sir, Colonel, sir!" Luke says with the hints of a smirk still on his face  
The man who hasn't spoken yet, walks straight up to the soldier's face, and practically growls at him.  
"You will not speak unless spoken to, Private!"  
The soldier guys look genuinely shaken by that statement.  
"Yes, sir."  
The man who just yelled in Luke's face takes a couple of steps backwards and lands about a foot and to the left in front of James, his back squarely to the two of them.  
"I'll repeat: Master Sergeant, is there a problem here?" the first man asks again.  
It's James who answers with a "No, sir."  
There's an eerie silence that follows. She finds herself in awe as she realises that these two are here to defend them while it dawns on the group of young soldiers, they're now in some real trouble, and won't be getting to scratch the itch of finding a fight they were sure they were gonna win.  
For their part, James and the senior officers are in full command of the situation.

"Doesn't look that way to me, Sergeant," the Colonel comments in a fake conversational tone, as he walks around the young soldiers, who are now visibly shaking in their boots. "To me it looks like car trouble for your friend over here. Does it not look that way to you, Major?"  
The Colonel directs his gaze to the man who yelled at Luke. The Major, whose eyes haven't left the assembled soldiers, answers the question posed by his superior automatically.  
"Yes, sir, it most certainly does." 

The Colonel stops his pacing, clasps his hands low behind his back and turns to also look at the young soldiers in front of him.  
"How about we help the Sergeant and his friend with their car trouble, boys."  
"Sir, that won't be necessary," James chimes in.  
"I insist, Sergeant." It doesn't seem to be up for debate.  
"Martin," James calls out to the Colonel and she can hear the pleading in his voice. The Colonel turns to actually look back at James, who shakes his head once, ever so slightly. The Colonel shuts his eyes in resignation, and turns back to the soldiers.  
"You heard the man boys. It's your lucky night. Though I would suggest you head back to the base and rest well. You never know what might come up tomorrow."  
His words are full of warnings and promises and she can see the soldiers physically trying to not groan and protest.  
"DIS-MISSED!" the Major yells, and the young men scatter faster than she thought was possible.

The Major and the Colonel watch on with distaste, until the younger men are in their cars and out of the lot.  
"Congrats on the promotion," James says as he goes to start up the Escalade.  
"You're about 3 years late with that, but thanks Jimmy," the Colonel informs James, and he turns to look at him, his expression changing completely, as a full blown smile dawns on his face.  
James mirrors the expression, and she's pretty sure she's never seen him smile before. She didn't even know he could.  
"You look good Ted," he says nodding to the Major.  
"You can say fat. Don't try to be nice, asshole," the Major jokes.  
"You know I'm not nice... and that's the only reason you get away with calling me an asshole, fatass," James teases back.  
"Not being in the service anymore is the only reason you're getting away with calling him a fatass, dick," the Colonel ends the cycle of insults with mirth in his voice, and the three of them laugh a bit standing in a circle close by the SUV, completely at ease with each other.  
She's a little lost, left beside the truck not really knowing what to do. 

The Colonel - Martin - looks over her way, and smiles pleasantly. She shifts uncomfortably... and she's uncomfortable about being uncomfortable.  
"We're heading in for a drink. Why don't you let us buy you -both of you- a beer when you finish up here? Nice chance to catch up," the Colonel suggests.  
"Can't... It's late, and we've gotta drive back... make sure she and the truck get home safe..."  
"Of course." He doesn't persist, but she thinks he maybe sounds just a little disappointed.  
"But, thank you, for stepping in like that."  
"I'd say we did those boys a bigger favour actually..." the Major comments. James gives himself a self-deprecating grin and looks down at his boots, avoiding the officers' appreciative gaze.  
"It was really good to see you Jimmy," the Colonel says fondly.

James exchanges curt friendly handhsakes with both men, and as they walk towards the bar and past her, each gives her genuine goodnight wishes and tell her to drive safe.  
All she can muster as a response it a meak "Yeah, thanks."

She watches Colonel Martin and Major Ted's retreating backs and it's only when they've finaly disappeared into the bar that she regains her composure.  
"Shit, man! Who were those guys?"  
"Men I went to war with." There's something in his voice that makes her turn around to look at him. He's got his eyes glued to the bar, and has an odd expression on his face. Something between sadness and longing and anger.  
And she thinks maybe for the first time since they've met time she really sees him. 

Without a warning he shifts back into a mode she's familiar with: Bussiness.  
"Start her up," he instructs her.  
She doesn't argue, just gets in the truck and fires it up. The engine sputters and growls but eventually comes to life.  
"Okay, good. Shut it down," he yells over the engine's noises. She complies without protest.  
He disconnects the cables. "Take it for a quick spin around the lot," he says as he shuts her hood. "Nothing fancy or showy," he warns her. Again without talkback she does as she's told.  
She drives around for a little while. In the meantime, she can see him fussing with putting back the jumpers in his trunk, and then he lights a smoke. He finally waves her over when he puts it out.

She parks next to him, and leans out the window as he steps closer to the truck.  
"We just have to wait a bit for the battery to charge for a while, and then we'll head out." She nods. "I'll take the truck and you drive the SUV back to the winery. I'll take you home after."  
"Okay."  
"Teresa said your phone was dying too, right?" She nods again. "I've got a charger in the Escalade. Come on," he says gesturing for her to get out.  
She grabs her phone from where she's left it in the cup holder, gathers her "groceries" in her arms and jumps out. She walks to the SUV and unceremoniously dumps everything on the driver's seat, fully intending to get James to tell her to "not leave that mess in his car". But he does nothing of the sort. He just leans on the hood of the car, his knee bent and resting his foot on the tire, with his hands burried deep in his jacket's pockets, quietly looking ahead into the dark expanse of Arizona's landscape.  
She's never seen him like that before: pensieve looking; and she's more than a little weirded out by it all.

She reaches inside the SUV and finds the cord to charge her phone. As she pulls herself back out, she grabs the soda and a Snickers bar.  
"Trade you for a smoke?" she offers him the chocolate as she sets the can on the hood.  
He looks down at the candy bar and starts patting himself down. He pulls out his pack from somewhere under his jacket and fishes his lighter from one of the back pockets of his jeans. They make the exchange and in the time it takes her to light the cigarette he's wolfed down half the Snickers. She sets the smokes and his lighter between them on the hood, opens her soda can, and leans back unintentionally mimicking his posture.  
When he's polished off the candy, he pockets the wrapper somewhere in his jeans, and as he takes a final deep swallow smacking his tongue against his teeth, he spares a glance back at the bar.

She doesn't think he means to do it, and she didn't intend to notice; but he did... and she did... So she erratically stabs the little that is left from her cigarette on the tire rim and tosses the bud as far away as she can before she says, "Ya know... since we're hangin' around anyhow, if you wanna go grab that beer with your friends, I'm cool."  
"They're not my friends. They're men I went to war with," he repeats, and makes it sound like the distinction is important, even if the essence of the relationship isn't really that different. "And, anyway, I'm not the guy they want to talk to anymore."  
"Didn't look like that to me."  
She can't really tell if it's she or him who is more surprised she said that.  
James looks down and gives himself a similar self-depracating half smile like before. "Trust me, I'm not... and I'd rather they don't figure that out," he lets her know, and helps himself to another cigarette.

They sit there in comfortable silence, leaning on their black fancy four wheeler, while she sips on her soda and he chain smokes. After a long while, he checks his watch and takes one more, final, drag, before he throws the bud on the ground and crashes it with the heel of his boot.  
"Lets go," he declares pushing himself off the SUV, grabing his pack of cigs and his Zippo from the hood and heading for the van, leaving her standing by the Escalade's door.  
She watches him climb into the truck, and decides this is not the note she wants them to end this night on.  
"Hey!" she calls out to him and he turns to her. "Question: can _I_ call you 'Jimmy' now?"  
Her smile is toothy and mischevious and teasing, and she can tell he's actually trying to fight down one of his own through his annoyance.  
"Get your ass in the car," is all he says, before he slams the truck door shut.


End file.
